You are Light.
A blanket surrounding all colours, stealing vision. Darkness.
You are Light.
Confusion, uncertainty. Mucky, muddy waters once clear. Darkness.
You are Light.
Pride, a dark-winding pathway cut in the heights above others. Darkness.
You are Light.
Trails named Isolation and Loneliness. Darkness.
You are Light.
Contempt, the soils of love and the birthing of separation. Darkness.
You are Light.
The binding in unity of purpose over and against others. Darkness.
You are Light.
Hunger for evermore. Dissatisfaction with Present. Darkness.
You are Light.
Control, grasp, want and lust. Darkness.
You are Light.
Yes, You are Light.
The ever misunderstanding of darkness.
You are Light.
The break in the covered sky.
You are Light.
The torch of our vision.
You are Light.
The warmth to our souls.
You are Light.
Light of the world.
Words echo, “Let there be Light.”
God, we are hungry for evidence.
Evidence.
Encouraging words are evidence that we are cared for. Evidence of achievement lets us know we are valued. We might look for the evidence of someone’s regret over a hurtful action. We sometimes look for evidence of change in a situation that is challenging. We look for evidence and growth of wisdom when we lack it. From you, we seek evidence as well.
Sick, we pray for evidence of healing.
Lost, we wish to see evidence of your guidance.
Broken, we pray for evidence of your restoration.
Lacking, we hope for evidence of your care.
Our failings, we pray that we may be changed.
You may show your love to us in a direct answer to our prayers, and the change we seek, may come even sooner than expected. When the wait seems long, we continue in faith. Yet, sometimes we are tempted to give up, question you, and wonder if you really are walking the road with us. Or, if we believe you are, we may be tempted to wonder what is wrong with us. Does our faith lack?
It may be that we are looking in the wrong places. We may miss you because we look outside of ourselves to things external. Internally, we seek evidence of you alone. You alone. Just you. Your presence in our hearts is enough. It’s really not a great sign or miracle of your intervention that we seek. We want to know you are concerned about each of us intimately. We want to touch your cloak, taste the crumbs that have fallen from the table, and sit with you.
When we seek you there, all else becomes dim. When that deeper part of our hearts is satisfied by your love, we can’t give up hope or lose our way. Your love is higher than the heavens, wider that east from west. Your love is surely grounded with us. Your love is mighty and great.
God, We walk an efficient pathway. We get a lot done. Each day we rise and go forth into this world intending to accomplish, get things done, build, and grow. We want to serve you and make things happen for the sake of the kingdom. It’s just not working real well, and we know it in our hearts. Yet, we don’t seek a different way. We think more of what isn’t working will grant us what we are missing. What we often lack is the knowledge of your love and sharing that with each other. This is our purpose, and we want to go that way. Yet, we pass by that path for the one named "This way - What We Get Done." Really, this path hinders your simple plan of us finding our beloved status in you.
In our bid to be the finest, we may lose sight of poverty and brokenness within us. So, we lose sight of you because it is there that you meet us.
In our hunger to express our gifts using them to the fullest, we may miss the experience your simple and without-fanfare gift of grace.
In our efforts to give you glory, we may lose sight of the glory, blessedness, and wonder you bestow on us.
Through our sacrifices to love and serve, we sometimes abandon the intimate knowledge of sacrificial love for us.
So much of what we do has created a frantic search for something we can only know through abandonment. When we abandon the forms and formulas, we find you. When we abandon the big deals and supercharged events, we find you. When we abandon this unending search for an imaginary something, we find you. When we abandon our way, we find you.
You are always the alternate path to every other around us.
You are found in the quiet and in silence, not always in the stimulating. You are found when we take time to reflect allowing you to stir our souls, less so in busyness. You are found when we set aside achievement disregarding a prize or win. Teach us to set it all aside, to place you in our sights and not the things we perceive to be of you. Teach us love letting go of efficiency. Teach us rest saying goodbye to reward and fulfillment.
May we go the path of you, not the tangled messy trail we forge for ourselves. That trail is busy. It’s full. It’s filled with stress and frustration. It’s a trail that feels like we are getting somewhere, a place of importance. Yet, it only leads to more of the same and less of you.
You are the path, you alone.
The revelation of God is whole
and pulls our lives together.
The signposts of God are clear
and point out the right road.
The life-maps of God are right, showing the way to joy.
The directions of God are plain and easy on the eyes.
Psalm 19, The Message
God, brilliant Lord, yours is a household name.
Nursing infants gurgle choruses about you;
toddlers shout the songs
That drown out enemy talk,
and silence atheist babble.
I look up at your macro-skies, dark and enormous,
your handmade sky-jewelry,
Moon and stars mounted in their settings.
Then I look at my micro-self and wonder,
why do you bother with us?
Why take a second look our way?
Yet we've so narrowly missed being gods,
bright with Eden's dawn light.
You put us in charge of your handcrafted world,
repeated to us your Genesis-charge,
Made us lords of sheep and cattle,
even animals out in the wild,
Birds flying and fish swimming
whales singing in the ocean deeps.
God, brilliant Lord,
your name echoes around the world.
The Message
How well God must like you - you don't hang out at Sin Saloon, you don't slink along Dead-End Road, you don't go to Smart Mouth College.
Instead you thrill on God's Word, you chew on Scripture day and night. You're a tree planted in Eden, bearning fresh fruit every month. Never dropping a leaf, always in blossom.
Psalm 1.1-5 The Message
God,
We are all your children.
As parent, you love us not by our choice. We didn’t go looking for you, making things happen to have a relationship with you. You did it through Jesus. We were, each of us, orphans looking after our own needs, wandering around, hungry, and displaced. We weren’t well kept, maybe a little dishevelled with mud on our face. You found us, took us into your home and made us your dearly beloved ones. In fact, you made your home within us. You created a safe place and shelter in our hearts, a place of freedom from those who wish to rob our souls, take advantage or harm us.
This orphanage of our hearts is not like the ones you hear about or see in old movies. In the home of our hearts where you dwell, you love us not based on our behaviours. You don’t cast us away, send us out into the cold dark night when we fail, mess up, don’t get things right. You maintain constant contact with us. You want us to turn and learn better ways, but you do so with your loving arms always around us. Though we may kick and scream at you, demand what we want, you hold on tight not loving us any less. At those moments you don’t feel embarrassed, hoping no one is looking and saying, “Is that really your child?” You still see us as your dearly beloved, beautiful creations.
You love us not based on our looks or abilities. In a world that judges based on how good we are at something or what we achieve, you love us apart from all that. We sometimes get down on ourselves because we don’t measure up, have it all together. You don’t go the pathway of shame. In fact, you route for the underdog, the one who trips and falls down, lacks coordination.
You love us when we are not well. When our noses run, we drool, or are dirty.
You show no favouritism to your children, preferring one to another.
You love us when we don’t understand, fail to grasp, lack the insight to know which we to go.
We squabble, showing rivalry at times. Yet, you don’t stay at the office avoiding our mess. You continue with us that we may be gathered together in harmony and love. You don’t send one of us off to a distant relative in hopes of some greater peace in the family. You maintain your loving ever-present contact with each of us.
You are particularly close to us when we fall down and are hurt, or when we are wounded by others.
The greatest gift to us has been, is and will be your search for us. Like an adoptive child, you came for us. While we were powerless, you arrived on the scene. We didn’t make things happen with you, but you made things happen with us, loving us the moment you saw us. This type of love will continue.
You are El Shaddai, the God who draws near, the God of the breast.
You are a Father with space, time, and energy for each of us, a life of constant one-on-one outings with you.
You are the One who shelters us in the shadows of your wings.
You gather us as a mother hen gathers her chicks.
God,
The skies are your movies and our drive-in theaters. You show the drama of the sun's journey from east to west everday. At night, you display the romance of the silk-white glow of the moon and the dance of the stars. Some days, you blanket and surround the landscape with playful cottony-white clouds that give joy and laughter to those that stop to view. Other days, the skies increase and become one with the ground below. These are your foreign films days where the skies speak a language of mystery, depth of plot, and deep character development. A careful search is needed to see and grasp all that is being presented with its rapidly changing scenes on these days.
We sometimes avoid days of the thundery, wet and stormy skies. We would rather hide away and wait for lighter, easier and simpler shows. These are the skies of inconvience and interruption to what we have normally scheduled for ourselves. Yet, in stepping out, noticing and making the effort we are presented with a plot and story that is not quickly forgotten like any good foreign film.
The skies serve as metaphors for our lives.
We often live with good drama, laughter, romance, and joy. Mostly, the skies of our lives are clear and sunny with a just a few passing clouds. We enjoy most of our days. Only, too much of that, and we grow dry and barren in our hearts. Just in time, the dark, heavy and cloudy circumstances come. We quickly look for shelter by running away. We want a quick fix to keep ourselves dry and comfortable. We miss out. Like the nourishment, growth and cleansing that comes to the landscape from the passing storms, we miss the same for our souls when we do not face and step into storms of our lives.
You desire the best for us and for what we will become. Sometimes, that might mean blowing winds of physical problems, dark grey clouds of doubt, blinding rain of loneliness. Teach us to weather these storms, learn from them, and find you in them. Through them, may we become changed, more in tune with love
In every natural storm, there is light. It is light somewhere, distant and hidden, that allows us to see the texture, shape and color of the clouds, observe the shiney hue of the rain drops. It is you that similary allows us to see, understand, and receive the metaphorical storms of our lives.
So, let us face, turn, and experience the howling. You won't leave us alone, and you will be our shelter through them, the Tender of our dark skies. You will bring us to a place of renewal, light, and calm. There will be an increase of glory and beauty to our souls.
Everyday, skies are beautiful. Also, our lives. Beautifully forming, days both clear and cloudy. All thanks be to you.
Prayer based on July 28 entry...
Lord, as a people, we cry out to you. Some of us out of the depths of despair, some out of physical pain, some out of confusion, some of us in fear, some of us in loneliness, some of us in sorrow over our sins and the fruits they have produced, some of us in anger and frustration. Some of us cry out in the midst of joy and gladness.
We’re often told we can satisfy the hunger in us through what we do, how we live, what we wear, how good we are at something, the friends we have, the recognition we receive, the perceived value of our work or play, how we look, how together we can appear. So, we purchase them, open and swallow. Yet, they don’t satisfy our hunger. They’re all a bit like Twinkies tasting good up front but leaving us feeling worse later on. They don’t satisfy our true hunger for you.
We are all longing for something more, something different, something to change, something to mend, or something new. Really, this just confirms that we are meant for something greater. We are meant for something beyond the here and now of this earth. We are meant for you, your presence now and in all of eternity.
“You are our Lord, apart from you we have no good thing.” You alone fill us with pleasures and food that last for all time. You have given us our cup and that drink is you. May we set you always before us. May we be unified together in our cries to know you more. Increasingly, satisfy us with your love that the world’s foods may seem dim in our eyes.
When we eat to satisfy the cries of our stomachs, may it remind us of the cries within us to be filled by you. When we feel good from our accomplishments, may it remind us of our deeper cry to be satisfied through finding purpose in you. When things are going well, may they never fully satisfy. Instead, may we look to you for your Spirit to fill our deeper spiritual longings. When things are in shambles, may we not satisfy that breakup in our lives with the stuff of this world that only fades away.
Satisfy the cries of ____ with the food of your presence, love, healing.
All things look to you to give them their food at the proper time. This too is our cry.
Cedar waxwing, Lake Simcoe.
I couldn't resist...
Watch out for the dead slow children. They might not be playing very fast, but be cautious nonetheless.
Even the flowers look up giving praise to the One who has created them, given them life and beauty. How much more has God given us such beauty? Each of us has unique characteristics, qualities, and colors far beyond measure to the most beautfiful wild flowers. We too look to God and give praise as his wonders of creations, God's image-bearers.
God,
We’re all different. Different needs, desires, places in life, and ages. We do share some things in common, or at least one. In common, we are all hungry to know ourselves as loved by you, our Heavenly Father. We all long to fully realize our home as infants in your arms, cradled and comforted, seeing you gaze down upon us with eyes of compassion and love. We long to know this kind of love that can barely be put into words, but yet that we know is real. Your love is faintly known by some of us, more profoundly by others, yet we all hunger for more. And this is our calling, to know ourselves as children who can give very little but are so open to receive all the love that there is to be given by you.
Sadly, though, we sometimes become old in our hearts and turn away from your love. We try to satisfy our hunger for your love by creating self-made value for ourselves. Sometimes, we do this by judging others based on what they have or don’t have, what they are or are not; to bring ourselves up, we bring others low. Rather than turning to your love to heal our wounds, we attempt our own medical treatment by bruising others.
We don’t always display ourselves to the world as having deep and sincere love for each other whether rich or poor, athletic or bookish, artistic or administrative, charming or rather plain. This tapestry and patchwork quilt we call the body of Christ often becomes separated and fragmented into pieces. Rather than a community deeply connected in our diversity of gifts and characters you have given each of us, we often line ourselves up based on similar perceived values, tastes, outlook or interest rather than truly connecting as a colorful mosaic.
So, we say we’re sorry for this Lord. Today we return to you Lord, as your children. We run to you with our hearts open to welcome your love. Grant each of us an increasing measure or your presence and the knowledge of your love. Just as the wind blows into a sail to push a ship forward, fill each of us with your Spirit that we may go forward into all things knowing of our beloved status. Just as a sailing vessel would create wakes behind it, let our movement forward in your Spirit create wakes of love disturbing the sea of lives that are drifting around us until we reach the shores of heaven and are fully alive in the very presence of your glory. May new and renewed relationships be realized where they never would have been because we each increasingly know of your love.
To you be given all glory, always and forevermore. Amen.
Lately, due to construction and road work, I have often had to sit in back-ups. Anytime I am out and traffic seems light, I give thanks for the break from waiting. This was the case a couple of Saturdays ago. With cool air blowing through the windows and my favorite music playing, I was relishing the scarcity of cars as I drove toward the sun as it melted over the Olympics.
This moment faded fast as I began slowing to meet the 200 meter backup ahead of me in my (formerly empty) right-hand lane. Best I could, I queued my frustration and then jumped into the nearly empty left lane.
Yet, I soon stopped and saw what was causing the hold-up to my perfect evening. At the front was a mallard and her ducklings stuck on the left-hand shoulder with the cement median to their left. They were desperately waddling to cross over the two lanes to their right to the safety of the shoulder and waiting bush. Trouble was, the two front cars (me included) slowly drove forward behind these ducks as they fearfully moved straight forward. The closeness of our vehicles prevented them from leaving the left-hand shoulder and crossing in front of us.
Momentarily, I experienced first-hand the *Bystander Effect. Yet, not for long. Jumping out and drawing on my former-life horse skills. I bravely and beautifully hearded these 9 lives off the road to the honks and thumbs-up of other drivers.
Here's what hit me and will not leave me for a long time. As I was clapping, shooing, directing, and waving these ducks to safety, they were not the least bit happy. Tripping and falling, the little ones were scared to the fullest measure of their pea-sized brains. The mother was just downright angry and nearly ready to attack me though she gave in to my seemingly dictatorial human manners.
I thought of me. I sure am a lot like the mother duck. I become angry when things do not go by my plans. I want things my way. My terms. My timeline. Now. When things don't go my way, I think I'm being led by a distant and uninvolved God or a God who does not have my best interests in mind. I turn to God, "What are you doing? Why this way and not some other way?"
Or, like the ducklings, I become fearful when I see the path I believe I am to follow but don't want to go. In my anxiety, I dig in my heals and become stuck.
Here's what else I do. Seeing myself do this, I'll feel guilty for being this way with God. How could I have questioned God, gotten so upset? I must really have gotten God pretty angry with me for being that way. I best step away from him for a little while, let things cool off between us.
However, I then begin to think of God in a different way, one much more in line with Scripture. (Even this is God's leading.) Maybe God's true way with me is a little more like the style of my duck-hearding. God directs and leads us on the right path. It's the path that seems anything but right to us, particularly in the moment. "You mean I have to waddle in front of all those vehicles?" Yet, it's the way to go, and resistance is really the pathway of death - physically, emotionally, spiritually. As well, maybe he has just a bit more patience with me than I do with myself. I kick, fall down, trip and get upset while learning life's lessons following his path. God takes it in, doesn't turn me away but continues to shepherd and guide me knowing I'm just a wee little duckling who doesn't always know better. God does, though, and he'll continue to lead me on the way to go.
Lord your Spirit is present. When we stop. When we cease our minds for a few moments. When we cease our activity. Cease the things we feel compelled to do. Cease our hunger to know, figure out, grasp. Turn from the things we seek to satisfy ourselves. When we end the many words spoken.
When we just stop, we catch a taste of the quenching present presence of your Spirit.
It’s hard to stop and be still sometimes. Even our prayers become a matter of success where we desire to see results. We have expectations for success as we do in so much of our work, hobbies, and daily play. Yet, your Spirit is about intimacy, passion, connection, love. Things that cannot be measured. It is these that our souls are truly thirsty for.
Teach us to wait…to be still...to be quiet.
It is your Spirit that is like a stream to a valley. A stream that brings depth of color to the grasses. A stream that strengthens and grows tall the trees. A stream that provides life for the animals in the valley. A stream that provides character to the landscape. A stream that provides direction and satisfaction for the person lost and thirsty traveler. And so with your Spirit, providing all we need though we often seek it in other, distant and parched lands.
All we have to do is stop our mind, heart, and body wanderings. You are there. You’re the stream that flows and runs after us whether we go up, down, this way or that.
Teach us to move beyond ourselves, to see, feel, taste and know of your present presence through your Spirit.
The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He will not always accuse, nor will he harbor his anger forever; he does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his love for those who fear him; as far as east is from west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us (Ps 103: 8-12).
Arbutus trees. Stately, original and full of character. God's art. They keep their leaves year-round with a slight shedding in summer. Their pure white flowers recently appeared in April. More than the daffodils, crocus or scenes of the robins digging in soft soils, these blooming trees give voice to Spring. It would seem to be the reverse, but the greater the previous summer's drought - a tree's anguish - the more glorious and full the April flowers. They give a glimpse of the work being done in us. Trials always lead to beauty.
Has anyone been fussing before the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? If fussing can't even do that, why fuss at all? Walk into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They don't fuss with their appearance - but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them. If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you?
What I'm trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting so you can resond to God's giving. People who don't know God fuss over these things. Steep yourself in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met. Don't be afraid of missing out. You'r my dearest friends! The Father wants to give you the very kingdom itself. (Jesus' words in Luke 12.)
Jean Vanier began L'Arche community, a ministry serving mentally and physically challenged men and women. In one of his books, Befriending the Stanger, he spoke about Frank, one of the residents. Frank suffered on a nearly constant basis due to his disabilities. Prayer was an important part of his life and knowing this, a staff member asked him, "What do you do when you pray, Frank?"
Frank responded, "I listen."
"What do you listen for, Frank?"
"I listen to God telling me that he loves me."
Prayer. Sometimes, a thing we do at the start of events, meals, or gatherings. Maybe something we do as part of a routine each day. It is often done as a result of our struggles, needs, or physical ailments. As our most intimate companion, he delights to receive all connections we make with him.
Yet, at its heart, prayer is about sitting quietly and listening to God's voice telling us how much we are loved. Jesus was baptized, and the first words spoken by the Father were, "You are my son whom I love; with you I am well pleased." Jesus' prayer for us was that we would also know these very words (John 17:20-26). The same intimacy he shared with Father, he prayed that we might experience. Each of us is God's beloved child. Our joy and completion is sitting, kneeling, standing or walking in the quiet presence of the One who speaks these words to us: "You are my dearly beloved child."
There are a few challenges to this contemplative, quiet, and receptive style of prayer. The first is our hunger for success. There is no achievement when our prayers are merely to be in the presence of God, hearing his voice tell us of how much we are loved. We don't see direct results, and no "praise God for answering our prayers!" Prayer where we sit in contemplation of how much we are loved may leave us feeling, "Did I accomplish anything?"
There may also be some fear of intimacy. With ourselves. With God. To sit and listen to God tell us of our deeply beloved status, can be overwhelming. We may want to run. Too much!
Finally, many of us are taught to love, serve and give. Less so, we are taught to recieve love. To sit and receive the very presence of God's love may be like writing with our left hands (if you're right-handed, that is).
May God grant us his grace to intimately know his imeasurable love. May we experience, taste and touch it.
I was about 7 or 8 and having a picnic with my family on Lake Michigan. Being the perpetual explorer and determined to challenge my parents from a very young age, I set out on a trek along the shoreline. Climbing over the dunes, I came to a river blocking my way. The rapids were slight... for a kayak. I began pushing through them to reach the far shore. I don't remember everything except that I became trapped by a rock and was held down by the surging waters. Hey, this was something new. I'm sure there was panic, but mostly I remember being plucked from the waters by a young woman. Had she given me her name, I would never have forgotten it. She was beautiful, an angel from heaven. I can still picture her hands reaching through the surface to free me. Sadly, CPR was not needed as I was not down long enough.
The waters surrounded me, but I was spared. Saved to life.
David had a number of enemies. He wrote about them quite a bit in the Psalms. It seems that someone was always after him. Our enemies aren't the same as David's, at least for most of us. Yet, we still have enemies - negative thoughts, habits, hurtful people, or troubling situations. They create moments where we feel like waters are closing in on us. Deep and dark waters. Water where there is no clear site of land. Those are the moments where we flail and kick for life, but nothing seems to work.
During those times, I call out. Loudly. I stop all things and take time to be with the One who is my lifeguard. Our Lifeguard. When my wandering and straying takes me to the rapids, I am always brought back to shore after helps, yelps and my hands reached upward to the Hand waiting to pull me out.
He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemies, from my foes, who were too strong fro me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. Ps 18
Rob Jirucha Photo
Rob Jirucha Photo
Light was pierced
Thorns held the Light
Rob Jirucha Photo
Rob Jirucha Photo
“Kick out the darkness and let it bleed daylight.”
Bruce Cockburn
Dark will never understand light.
Rob Jirucha Photo
